


I-Week

by PrairieDawn



Series: The Not-So-Lost Years [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Academy Fic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author on a Soapbox, Character and Relationship lists not complete, F/M, Fantastic Ableism, M/M, Panic Attacks, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieDawn/pseuds/PrairieDawn
Summary: Plebes register, are sworn in, and begin the process of indoctrination that will turn them from civilians to Starfleet personnel.
Relationships: Radar O'Reilly/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Not-So-Lost Years [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966705
Comments: 128
Kudos: 63





	1. Culture Shocks

**Author's Note:**

> Why yes, I am back on my BS, thank you very much.

Standing at the edge of a milling crowd of tall, fast, loud humanoids, lines of them snaking across the open field to collect registration packets and uniforms, Nen Tolou felt more lost than he had ever been. These were not his people, the humans with their stretched analogies and shared fictions, living so much in what wasn’t or what might be instead of what was and what must be. Even the doctor who had examined him believed he had some mystical window into other minds, his damaged brain a “natural variation” he could learn to live with. He would not have his cure here. 

But he would have asylum if he could just hold on long enough to earn it. He studied the card with his name transliterated into Standard characters, compared the first letter of his surname to the characters marking the end of each line, and did not find it. He would have to ask for help from one of the uniformed humans—humanoids, some were not human, though he was not yet expert at telling the species apart. They all looked a little like trees to him, with their long, featherless limbs in earthy shades.

He must have looked as lost as he felt, since one of the creatures approached him, making the smile face. He tipped his head in a friendly manner, given that his beak made human smiles physically impossible.

“Need help?” they asked.

“None of the characters on the signs match the initial character in my name.”

“May I see?”

He passed them the card.

“Does the name you intend to use come first or second?”

“Second.”

They nodded briskly. “Right this way.”

They dropped him at the end of the proper line and were gone before he could thank them. 

The line crawled forward, burying him deeper in the milling crowd, filling his ears with noise and his eyes with movement. His brain started embellishing, adding layers of images and chatter so he had to focus hard on keeping his place in line. By the time he reached the front, he couldn’t remember Standard words and so stood speechless at the table with his name card held out in front of him.

The person at the desk took the card carefully, looked at it, and set it back on the table. He tucked it back in his satchel and a packet was placed in front of him, then the person pointed him at a second set of lines. He swallowed a sighing whistle. He had thought he was done. The lines of future cadets dissolved into chaotic milling about on the way to the second set of lines. He tried to navigate, but there was too much hallucinatory noise in the way and he stumbled into someone or someones and ended up on the ground, his beak buried in the grass.

He would have been fine if someone hadn’t tried to help him up.

*

“I cannot believe that five poisonings, one life-threatening is an improvement over last year,” Leonard groused. “How is Cadet Kvan?”

His nurse shook her head. “About the same as the last time you asked. They’re still chelating. Last year it was three times as many.”

“Keep me posted.” They weren’t in the main clinic, but instead were staffing a mobile aid station on the practice field, managing mostly overwrought parents and the occasional turned ankle, but now and then someone touched, breathed, or ate something that didn’t play well with their biochemistry.

He kept half an eye on the milling crowd. Almost eight hundred cadets would be coming through today, in timed batches of a hundred, but for every one that came alone, there were three others who brought a family reunion’s worth of relatives and high school friends to see them off. Once the cadets were through the line of dressing rooms dividing them from their adoring families and their civilian lives, he worried a bit less about them, though every morning after calisthenics and conditioning runs there was a steady stream of enthusiastic plebes who used their body beyond its limits and a smattering of nonhumans who had attempted exercises their bodies did not evolve to perform.

There was a change in the swirl of bodies moving away from the registration line, a pinching and circling. He looked down at his screen almost before the red flag went up. “Paulsen, stay on your comm. Atef, with me.” He scooped up his bag and slalomed through the lines to where a rough circle surrounded a small, feathered body twitching on the grass. He tsked, “Tolou. I saw this coming a klick away.” He raised his head and waved his arms at the crowd. “Back up, give him space, this isn’t a damn free show.”

Leonard needed to get the kid out of the crowd stat. His species was so new to the Federation that the standard updates to medical databases hadn’t even begun, so he had little idea what drugs would stop the seizure and what drugs might make the kid forget to breathe. At least he only weighed as much as an eight-year-old, so one person could carry him out alone if they could safely touch him.

He scanned the crowd, shamelessly hunting pointy ears. “You! Over here!” The Vulcan kid he’d singled out stepped out of line to stand beside him. If he hadn’t spent five years watching Spock’s face for clues to his mental states he might have missed the nervous twitch in the kid’s cheek. “What’s your name?”

“Tepek, sir.”

“I just need you to pick him up and follow me, nothing fancy. Stubborn fool doesn’t believe in telepathy and plans to keep not believing in it until it kills him, apparently. Mind the wings.”

Tepek bent down and lifted the seizing Hanlen into his arms. Again, Leonard caught the tiny hitch in his steps, not quite even a stumble, but chose not to distract his helper with questions. When they got to a more open area, he gestured to the grass and Tepek lay Tolou down and stepped back, distress visible in a vertical wrinkle between his eyes. “How is it possible not to believe in something so evident?”

Leonard held up a hand to forestall questions long enough to call in a transfer to the hospital, then fished through his bag. for a hypo and a sampling kit. “Far as I can tell, the talent’s pretty rare among his people, kind of like with humans.” He paused to imagine brightness settling into place around him and Tolou’s nauseatingly powerful projections dimmed slightly, enough that he dared take a blood sample and press the hypospray of pentobarbital and lexorin to his throat. He’d need to watch autonomics very closely, make sure the drugs didn’t suppress respiration too much. “Tolou here thinks he’s making it all up.”

“That is illogical.”

“I know. But you’d be amazed at what it’s possible to ignore or explain away if it doesn’t fit your view of how the world works.”

His comm pinged. “That will be our ride. Thank you, Tepek.”

“One does not—”

“Thank logic. I know. Get used to it.” The beam caught him and carried him away. 

*

The first time Jim saw S’lass, the Gorn was dressed in a skimpy, flashy outfit that rendered him weirdly attractive, though Jim might have been more inclined to pursue that avenue had they not been trying to kill each other at the time. By the next time they met, Jim was securely bonded to Spock, though that hadn’t kept him from catching sight of S’lass at a bar on Deep Space Four to share a few drinks and complain about their respective higher-ups. The space-based military culture varied considerably across species, but there were some facets of captaining a ship that were nearly universal, and it was nice to commiserate with someone else who knew the score.

They’d corresponded from time to time since, but Jim hadn’t expected to see him striding purposefully through the crowd of milling cadets to reach him. “Hail, Captain Kirk!” he shouted, his voice a throaty hiss with just a hint of a whistle. “Have you seen my girl, yet?”

Jim gestured the Gorn to stand beside him. The incoming cadets largely gave him a wide berth, no doubt because of his impressive skull filled with sharp teeth. “I have.” He pointed with his chin to where S’lass’ daughter waited in one of the several long lines that snaked across the practice field.

“We’ve been here over an hour and she hasn’t started a single fight,” S’lass complained. “She’ll be an ensign cleaning test tubes for her entire career.”

“That’s not how advancement works in Starfleet and you know it, Captain S’lass.”

S’lass roared a laugh. Security officers nearby eyed him suspiciously. Cadets skittered off in all directions. “Then it’s a good thing for her this Starfleet is willing to take her off my hands before her sisters put her out an airlock.”

Jim thumped the Gorn on the back. “I’ve got to circulate. Get back to your ship and stop hovering.”

S’lass snorted and shoved Jim hard enough he would have stumbled had he not been expecting it, then turned away and headed back through the crowd of parents and cadets. 

*

Lessl didn’t acknowledge her father in any way, but she knew he was watching her all the same. She could see him in her peripheral vision, chatting up the Starfleet Captain he’d convinced to sponsor her into the Academy. The story had been told numerous times by her mother and her father’s consort, always to maximize her father’s embarrassment. Once, he had ripped a chair off its base to stop their teasing. She remembered the day he’d been abruptly kidnapped from his bedchamber by powerful aliens and compelled to engage in ritual single combat. They’d watched on the viewscreen as the comically fragile captain of the enemy ship struggled to engage him, the two of them surprisingly evenly matched despite the difference in size and strength. Her father had been sleeping when thy took him, his body cool and resisting movement, but the amusing part of the tale, and the part that was repeated with the most relish, was the fact that he had been wearing his most enticing lingerie on the occasion of his consort’s promotion.

Given the reputation of the human captain, her father might have been more successful had he tried to seduce him. The thought brought a snarky squint to her eyes, but her amusement faded quickly, leaving her bored and restless once more. Starfleet was, so far as she had observed, mostly concerned with standing in lines. Most of the other cadets avoided looking at her.

She reached the front of the line. The bland features of the human sitting at the table shifted and drew together. “Name,” they said.

“S’shirih S’lass Lessl.”

A package was thrust into her claws. “Use one of the cubicles to change. Personal effects you wish to keep with you must fit inside your lockbox. Everything else may be placed into the storage container. Label it clearly if you ever want to see it again.”

Lessl followed the humanoid’s gesture to a row of white cubicles that divided the practice field like a wall. When she stepped inside, the door locked behind her, and the lock on a second door on the opposite side of the tiny room clicked open. That explained why she’d seen no cadets in uniform. Some effort had been made to shape the alien garments to accommodate her body, including her tail, which could be covered with its own sleeve or left uncovered. The uniform was a pearlescent gray and subtly textured, with several discreetly tailored pockets. She packed most of her things in the plastic tub provided, inscribed the label, and set the biometric lock, then arranged her grooming supplies in the little metal box of personal effects, tucked it into her new Starfleet issue duffel, and opened the door.

The uniforms changed them from a motley crowd of civilians of varying species to members of the same community, though what that community would be like was still a mystery to her. 

“Cadet.” A second year gestured to a floating pallet half full of gray Starfleet duffels. “Check the name on the duffel and put it over there. You won’t need it until evening.”

Lessl shrugged her acquiescence and sauntered over to the pallet, duffel in hand, then dropped it messily onto the pile.

“Cadet.” The voice was harder, sterner. “Place the bag neatly on the pallet with the others.”

As she had thought, this was the challenge. Her actions would determine her position among the cadets. She could choose safety and low status by following the directive or attempt a place near the top by besting this cadet in hand to hand combat. She brought up her claws and saw the second-year start back in surprise. 

She stifled the instinct to take advantage of the cadet’s lack of readiness by tearing out her throat just long enough to notice that there were no combatting pairs anywhere on the field, nor any bodies littering the ground. She bounced on her feet. “If I kill you, do I earn your status?”

“No!” The cadet took another step away from her, but regained their composure in another half second and squared their body into a military stance. “If you so much as injure me you’ll be thrown out of the Academy so fast you won’t even be able to pick up your things. Now show the kit you’ve been given the respect it deserves.”

Lessl walked in what she hoped was a dignified fashion to the pallet, lifted her duffel, and settled it neatly next to the others. When she turned around, she could see that almost everyone near her was staring, and she wondered what she could do to save face with these people.

“Come with me.”

She followed the older cadet toward a group who appeared to be practicing how to stand and how to walk. The cadet held up a hand, palm forward. “Stop there. Now, I’m not telling you this for your good, but for the good of all the other cadets who don’t have to be told not to murder their classmates. This is Starfleet, not a dive bar on the Klingon homeworld. You hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“You don’t fight except when, where, and how you are told and if you can’t do that, you can turn around and walk right out of here. Now go get into formation.”

“I don’t need to learn how to walk.”

“Yes, you do. Because you are even more of a f—of a toddler than the rest of these plebes.” She yelled over her shoulder. “The dinosaur over here’s all yours. Have fun!”

What was a dinosaur and should she be offended?

*

Sofie stood at parade rest in a block of fifty plebe wanna-bes, second in from the left, fourth row back, which suited her well enough. Controlling her body movements was already second nature to her and she’d watched videos of parade drill before arriving, so she occupied the rest of her attention with keeping an eye on every other cadet she could see with a paramedic’s brand of situational awareness. Was the plebe two rows forward and three to the right favoring her knee? Was the Andorian just in front of her starting to overheat?

Her personal medkit was going into storage with her civilian clothes, to be replaced, she’d been assured, with a Starfleet issue kit that would contain everything she needed. She doubted it. Anything packed to be equally useful to everyone was usually barely useful to anyone in a real emergency. She should really be listening to the second year at the front a little more closely but there were eight people in her personal space and her head felt like it was full of blackflies, shields or no shields.

“Sound off by fives!” They took the time to sound off, even though Sofie could tell immediately from her position that she would be a three, and she figured that anyone else who’d managed to get into the Academy had a sufficient grasp of basic arithmetic to figure out their number from their position in the array. “Dismissed to your groups.”

She found the other threes being led through stretching exercises and followed along, a little concerned about the Tellarite in front of her until an older Tellarite, a commander by his uniform, gave an acknowledging nod to their trainer and pulled the Tellarite aside to work with them separately. She felt rather than saw the shadow of someone behind her. “Sofie Gnidziejko?” the someone said, badly mangling her name.

She hopped to her feet and repeated it back to him correctly then commiserated, “My clan name is even worse.”

The ensign acknowledged her with a curt nod. “Your advisor has requested to meet with you at Starfleet Medical.”

“Aye, sir. May I ask the reason for this meeting?”

“I would tell you if I knew, Cadet.” 

That certainly failed to put her mind at ease. He led her across the field to an aircar parked at the edge of campus. engaged the autopilot, and tapped on his own datapad to read, in a clear indication that they were not expected to converse. She faced the front of the aircar, let her hands rest on her knees, and reconciled herself to the fact that for at least the next couple of years, she’d spend a lot of her time doing what she was told without knowing any of the details. A little part of her had started to wonder if she had done something, anything that might have made Dr. Leonard McCoy doubt her competence or intentions, but could think of nothing. They pulled up to Starfleet Medical, she followed her guide out of the aircar, and he led her through the building to Inpatient Neurology, which was promising, she supposed, though if this was a consult she was even more annoyed at not having her own medkit with her. The ensign flagged down a nurse. “Let Dr. McCoy know Gnidziejko is here.” He turned back toward Sofie. “Wait here for the doctor.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. Was she supposed to stand at parade rest? At-ease? She squared her feet and shoulders, locked her hands behind her back, and waited. 

She didn’t have to wait long. The McCoy she remembered from her intake physical rounded the corner, looking a little more the worse for wear. He caught her eye for a second, put up a finger, and rattled off a bunch of instructions to the nurse at the front desk.

“You look like a wax statue,” he grumbled at Sofie. “With me. You’ve got privileges on the floor, in case we need you—something we do for all the cadets who come in degreed.”

“Thank you, sir,” she squeezed in when he paused to breathe.

“I hate to drop this on you, but we’ve got a really messy situation. One of your classmates had a decompensation seizure yesterday. We held him overnight, but he needs to be back on campus today. Penrose three fifteen, culture doesn’t acknowledge the existence of psi phenomena, kid’s in denial so deep he can’t meaningfully consent to a telepathic exam.”

“If he can’t consent there won’t be anything I can do either.”

“Actually, there is. He’s got an asylum hearing in two weeks, and it looks a lot better for him if he’s still enrolled at the Academy by then. We’ll be assigning every plebe a battle buddy tomorrow, but I’d like this kid to have someone looking out for him as soon as possible. Including on the trip back to campus. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Sofie followed the doctor to a patient room, where a child-sized, feathered being perched on the edge of a chair, swinging his legs. His presence twisted and puckered the not-space around him, bleeding magenta and melody that printed fear/shame/uncertainty into her brain. She stopped in the doorway to spin up a heavier screen between them, but not before a breathed, “Well you’re right shiny, like!” made its way out of her mouth. She really had to work on not going all nort’ seven when she got startled.

McCoy gave her a hell of an eyebrow. “Ya don’t say,” he said in a pronounced southern accent. “Cadet Tolou, this is Cadet Gnidziejko. She’s going to be your buddy, so you look out for her, make sure she doesn’t get lost on the way back to campus.”

He blinked dark eyes with no whites at her. “You’re one of those Vulcans,” he said, suspicion dripping from his beak.

“Who, me? I’m from Chicago. By way of Thunder Bay.”

“Where is Thunder Bay?”

“Canada. And it’s on this planet. I’ll show you on a map if we ever get our data pads back.”

“Tolou, pack up your kit. Your ride leaves in ten. Gnidziejko, a word?”

“Of course, sir.”

McCoy led her back outside. “I’m sending you his chart. Confidentially of course, and I’m listing you on his care team. You get through that thick skull of his, you write up care notes and send them to me within twelve hours, you got that?”

“I got that, sir. Lakehead markup?”

“Please.” 

Tolou appeared in the doorway, shy and suspicious still. McCoy turned his attention back to him. “You’re all signed out and expected to check in at Sato Hall in one hour. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused in accidental unison.

McCoy grinned at them. “See? It’s like you’re made for each other. Now, git.”


	2. In which we finally get Squad 116 together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new crop of cadets are inducted into Starfleet, meet their squads, and are given their first assignment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I missed a couple weeks there. Perils of getting into Big Bangs and exchanges. But I'll have a couple of 15K ish things coming out the second week of February, one in the AOS Prairieverse and one in the Deityverse, so that's something, right?

Vera Alonso stood in the dormitory common room at parade rest, surrounded by other command candidates. They were not yet officially members of Starfleet, but it was a difference that made no difference as far as she was concerned. For the past week, their days had been tightly scheduled, from calisthenics and running at 0600 hours, testing and leadership seminars, more exercise and study in the afternoon and evening, and low light and silence at 2100 hours. The command candidates had four days of Academy discipline under their belts already, and they weren't even officially sworn in.

“Today,” the fourth-year cadet in charge of their group said, “You will each be placed into a squad of ten cadets. Most of you will be the only command candidate in your squads. If you are not, the upperclassman in charge of your block of squads will designate one of you to lead the group, and the other to serve as XO. There will be critical tasks to perform immediately. As you complete these tasks with your squads, you should assess their strengths and weaknesses and consider how best to integrate them into a team. As future commanders, you will be assessed not only on your performance but on theirs. Now get into your dress whites and be outside your rooms for inspection in one hour. You will not be returning to these rooms, so get all of your kit into your duffels and leave the duffels on your beds. Dismissed.”

The thirty or so of them broke from the parade rest they had been diligently practicing since Monday to rush back to their rooms. Vera and her roommates quickly donned their dress uniforms, taking care not to let any part of them touch the floor. Vera dressed on her bunk just to be sure, then stood to make sure that all the seams were straight and there were no bunchy or wrinkly spots. “Do I need to redo my hair?” she asked Kidu.

“No, your bun is still tight. How do I look?”

She looked him over. Short, tight coils that looked tidy even right out of bed, precise, professional looking eye and lipliner, uniform falling straight down his long limbs—except where one of the cuffs of his pants was turned up into the edge of his boot. She bent to flip it into place. “Now you look perfect.”

She took a moment to tuck the few belongings she’d taken out of her duffel back inside, though her paper copy of Core Points went into the right front pocket of her uniform slacks as required, despite it being completely useless to her. She could only hope she could find another solution before someone asked her about a part of the book that differed from the previous year’s edition, meticulously memorized over the past few months.

She fixed the sheet and blanket on her bunk, set the duffel on it, and stood at attention in the hallway just to the left of the door, while Kidu took the spot just to the right of the door. They weren’t the first out, but they weren’t the last either. As soon as all thirty of them were lined up on either side of the hallway, Cadet First Class Sasaki held up a hand. “Move out!” he ordered, and they followed at a chop, their not quite running steps loud on the tile floor.

*

Lessl stood in the middle of rank after rank of tailored gray and white uniforms, spread out one meter apart on all sides on the same grassy lawn where they had registered a couple of days before. As plebes, the only indication on those dress uniforms of their chosen track was a three-centimeter long enamel bar in red, blue, or gold just below their name patches. She had spent the evening memorizing the oath they would take in a few moments after Commandant Kirk finished his welcome address.

Kirk jogged up the stairs to the podium in his dress uniform, where he stood flanked by the heads of the various schools, many of whom, she'd heard, had served with him on the Enterprise. Humans were known to enjoy listening to the sounds of their own voices endlessly. She expected to be standing here for quite some time.

"On behalf of Starfleet," he began, "I would like to welcome aboard the Class of 2275 and to congratulate you on this important first step you've made toward a career in Starfleet. Today is the first day of a four-year journey that will test and temper you physically, intellectually, and ethically as you prepare to serve the Federation as scientists, explorers, emissaries, and at need, defenders. Starfleet Academy has a tradition of excellence going back over a century, and I intend to build upon that tradition as we welcome a more diverse body of cadets into our ranks. 

Lessl thought it was naive and risky for them to relegate defense to last place on the list of their duties as Starfleet officers, especially given the number of armed conflicts this part of the galaxy had seen in recent years. The commandant's pause was brief. She turned her attention back to him as he spoke. 

"Today begins your first summer as plebes here at the Academy. I'm not going to tell you it will be easy. You will work harder than you have ever worked before. You will face your fears, push yourself to the limits of your endurance, and confront your doubts. You will learn to have each other's backs, to act with honor and justice, and to seek knowledge with diligence and genuine curiosity."

She looked around at the soft, squishy monkeys around her and thought maybe they'd be tested to their limits, but this place couldn't touch what it took to challenge a Gorn. If she couldn't outfight and outwit these humans her sisters would have eaten her for lunch years ago.

"I am confident that each and every one of you will exceed our highest expectations. The stars are waiting." He turned to say something too quietly for her to hear to the officers lined up behind him, then took a place to one side while a spindly, bronze Edoan stepped forward to the podium. Lessl had memorized the oath already, of course, but she listened closely just in case the commandant had decided to change the wording on them as some kind of test.

The Edoan said, "I will now administer the oath of office to all newly commissioned cadets. Please repeat the following in Federation Standard. The words are displayed on the panel beside me for reference." He paused for a moment, then began. "Having been appointed a cadet in the Starfleet of the United Federation of Planets," here he paused for all of them to repeat his words. "I solemnly affirm that I will support and defend the constitution of the United Federation of Planets;" another pause for the cadets to repeat his words. "That I will maintain my allegiance to the same; that I take on this obligation sincerely and freely;" yet another pause, "and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter."

Phrase by phrase, Lessl repeated the oath, though she wondered exactly what it meant to maintain her allegiance. What would be expected of her if the alliance between the Gorn and the Federation ended and the two powers went to war? Would she be imprisoned? Sent home? Which side would she be expected to fight for? Which side should she fight for?

The oath ended, and the stillness that followed had a sensible weight. The Edoan turned its gaze on them in a slow sweep from right to left, emphasizing the gravity of the moment. Several seconds passed, then someone shifted their weight, someone else coughed, and a seagull flew overhead to squawk its opinion of the proceedings. "You will find your squad assignments and assembly points on your datapads."

A few cadets moved to pull their pads out of their pockets, but froze at a sharply barked, "Attention!" Another pause while the offenders resumed the position. "You will be dismissed by department and name of address. Command candidates, you have your instructions. You are dismissed to your squad's assembly point."

She expected to be released at any moment, but instead, another human approached the podium. "Ops cadets: Engineering, Communications, Security, and Administration. Your duties make Starfleet's mission possible. In some ways, you have more to learn than..."

Lessl was not particularly ashamed that she tuned out whatever was being said to the operations functionaries while she waited for them to be dismissed.

*

Vera checked the navigation on her datapad. Squad one hundred sixteen's assembly point was almost a klick away, in a lopsided rectangle of empty space abutted by a rifle range. She set off, noticing that most of the other command track cadets were heading the same way she was. 

The space she was looking for was beyond a stand of mixed live oak and bay, dotted with feral cherry trees that escaped from the more formal campus gardens. If she hadn't been in dress whites, she'd have gone right through. As it was, there was no indication there was a rush, so she detoured around the trees and emerged to find a meadow marked out with chalk lines in double rows of squares, separated by narrower corridors. In the center of each square sat a white plastic block, roughly two and a half meters long by one and a half meters wide by half a meter high, on top of each of which were arranged ten pale gray Starfleet issue duffels. She passed close enough to them while walking toward her own square to see seams at the corners and a printed label on the top, suggesting they were boxes with unknown contents.

By the time she found her square, moved to perch on the box, and chose not to after seeing the stick figure warning on the top, she was nearly certain the box contained a shelter of some kind, and that she and her squad would be expected to assemble it. There was a certain military stereotype in her head, the stern leader who only gradually softened over years, who zeroed in on their subordinates' weaknesses and rooted them out with uncompromising toughness and no small amount of ridicule. Was that who she was expected to become?

She'd already decided she couldn't pull that off, so she was going to go ahead and try it her way, at least until some First Class cadet or instructor had a better idea. The cadet walking toward her was a little shorter than she was and about as brown. "Paden Barrie, they/them," they said from a fair distance, waving. They had a colonial accent, but she wasn't sure which one. One of the older ones.

"Vera Alonso, she/her. Are you my XO then?"

"That's what my paperwork says." They didn't sound like they resented that fact. "Long as they let me fly I don't mind. You think we'll get to this summer? Fly, I mean."

"I'm trying not to speculate too much," Vera said. "I'm from Argentina," she told him. "You?"

"Argentina. Is that on Earth?"

So she was right about them being colonial. "Yeah, southern hemisphere." She pulled out her datapad, mumbled a command that the combination earpiece and mic picked up, and zoomed in on the map of Earth. "We're here." She pointed out San Francisco. "I'm from down here."

Their voice dropped to just above a whisper. "I'm Denevan. But don't advertise that, all right? People are really weird about it."

Vera would just bet people were weird about finding out they were from a colony that had lost over a quarter of its population to a nasty parasite less than a decade before. "I'll do my best not to be weird about it." 

Barrie looked through the duffels until they found their own, but left it on top of the box. Vera had intended to find her own before the rest of the group showed up so she wouldn't have to use the text-to-speech on her datapad in front of anyone, but Barrie had arrived too quickly. 

The next two members of their squad arrived in a pair, one very tall and very not human, the other short and round faced, with a nervous tension in his (?) shoulders that belied the smile on his (?) face. She couldn't remember the species the tall one belonged to, though it was on the tip of her tongue.

"Imre," the tall one said. "I'm Kelpien."

"Good to meet you. What's your specialization? And your pronouns if you don't mind?"

"She/her and security." Vera reached out to shake her hand. Her fingers were long, the palms, too, so long the handshake felt awkward and a little forced.

"Walter O'Reilly," the short one said. "Um, he/him. He stood at parade rest absently, as though he had been doing it for years. His eyes flicked down to her offered hand, then back up to her face. "I'd rather not, if it's all right, Ma'am."

"Afraid you'll catch something?"

"Oh no, I've got all my vaccinations and I'm sure you do too. Um. Telepath."

"Fair enough. That's a human name, though. Irish, isn't it?"

"I'm human. The esper stuff runs in my family."

"Walter and I are both prescient as well," Imre noted. "A species trait in my case."

"Huh." That was interesting. "According to my entrance physical I'm an empath. I mean just barely, but the doctor who processed me in made a thing of it. Something about being possession magnets. Two's a coincidence, three's a pattern. What about you, Barrie?"

"Nope. I mean, they would have said something, right?"

"You should check while we wait. Just in case."

Barrie shrugged and took out their datapad. O'Reilly caught sight of someone approaching and waved enthusiastically with his whole arm. "Trinna! Over here!"

The person he was waving at was as short and round as he was. She (?) made a beeline for him with a grin that made apples in her cheeks and scrunched wrinkles around her very dark eyes. "You're Betazoid, aren't you?" Vera asked.

"Trinna Lau. Oh. She/her of course." She hugged Walter and he let her. "Same squad! We're so lucky!"

"I doubt it's luck," Vera said at the exact same moment as O'Reilly said, "It's not luck."

Vera turned back to the pilot wannabe. "Barrie, you access your records yet?"

"I'm normal. Maybe they made a mistake."

"I doubt it. I'm sure they have their reasons." Four down, five to go. At least these four seemed willing to get along. "So, I'm pretty sure we're going to be living in whatever's inside these boxes," she told them.

O'Reilly waited until Barrie and Imre were looking away, then nodded subtly at her. Huh. And there were the next two coming down the grassy corridor, a tiny birdlike alien no bigger than a nine-year-old, with wings no less, walking beside a human looking person whose hands fluttered when he talked in an almost birdlike fashion.

The adjacent squares were filling with teams of their own. Vera approached the two newest arrivals. "Sciences?" she asked.

The little bird spoke for them. "I'm in astrophysics. He's organic chemistry."

"And your names and pronouns?"

"Nen Tolou. I am male."

"Luc Olamina. He/him."

Vera lowered her voice. "It looks like we're a majority esper squad. What about you two?"

"I am not," Olamina told her.

Tolou made a clicking noise in his throat and tossed his head back. "I do not entertain such superstitions."

Well, then. That could make things interesting. She hoped Imre, O'Reilly, and Lau wouldn't take too much offense. "Be that as it may, Tolou, I expect you treat your squadmates with respect, regardless of your beliefs about the validity of their sensory apparatus."

The feathers on his head stood up in a display that looked a little like a mohawk. He stared her down for a few seconds. "It is dangerous to entertain false notions about the nature of reality."

"I agree," she told him. Little twerp was definitely going to get on her nerves. "It is also dangerous to jump to conclusions before gathering sufficient evidence."

And in the name of all that was holy was that a Gorn? Was that even possible? In person, they really did look like big-headed Utahraptors with clothes. This one had a scar trailing across their forehead and down toward one ear. Whoever had them on her team would be--of course. The Gorn was headed right her way. Vera had no idea how to read their facial expressions and couldn't even guess at their gender. She introduced herself again, and the Gorn's tongue flicked in and out. "S'shirih S'lass Lessl. I am female." She turned partway away as though Vera was beneath her notice. Lovely.

Two to go. The field was filling up. Some cadets were already pulling at the white boxes. There was a stinging, sulfurous odor in the air, not too strong, but as though someone had been setting off explosives nearby, though there were no smoke plumes she could see anywhere. The red hemispherical boulder she'd assumed was a device of some kind when she'd seen it at a distance skimmed over the grass, leaving it crushed and wilting in its wake. O'Reilly and Lau left the square to run toward it. They flanked the thing on the way in. There was a vocoder welded to its side. Was that a cadet? Really? 

She looked around at the other squads. Several of those nearest her also had what seemed like a larger than expected number of nonhumans, while many others had none at all. One eighteen had a giant cross between a centipede and a scorpion gesticulating at a group of other cadets. The clustering was too pronounced to be random. She put on her most welcoming smile even though she suspected the being wouldn't understand it for what it was. It--they--stopped a meter in front of her. "Dahai Naraht. Planetary science," he said via vocoder. "He/him, though they/them is also acceptable."

"Pleased to meet you, Cadet Naraht," she said, measuring him with her eyes and realizing he would not fit through a standard sized door.

There was a commotion behind her. "You were supposed to wait for me," a woman said sternly.

Tolou responded in his distinctive, chirpy voice, "I am capable of navigating the campus without your assistance, Sofie."

"And if I let something happen to you Dr. McCoy will have my head!"

Vera spun around to confront the woman. "Excuse me. Do you belong here?"

The woman straightened. Her pointed ears were just visible through her loosely curled bob. "Sofie Gnidziejko, Medical. I'm a paramedic, but I'm going for my M.D. here." she said, smiling brightly. She had an accent too, but Vera couldn't place it. "Mostly Canadian, totally not Romulan." She looked around. "What'd they do, pack all the misfits into one squad?"

Barrie shrugged and turned back to Vera. "But why you? What's wrong with you?"

Vera swallowed her instinctive snippy reply and thought it over. "I don't think there's anything wrong with any of us.," she asserted. 

"Speak for yourself," Barrie groused.

Vera stared him down, then decided to come clean. "I'm severely dyslexic. Can't make visual patterns stick in my memory. But I deserve to be here."

"Do you think they expect us to fail?" Barrie's fists clenched at his sides.

"Who?" Luc asked.

"Whoever put us together. The new Commandant, I guess."

"That is not possible," the Gorn said firmly. "The Commandant is my sponsor."

Not Romulan nodded wryly. "Mine is Leonard McCoy. Also from Enterprise."

"Nyota Uhura, same," O'Reilly volunteered.

Barrie laughed aloud. "Hikaru Sulu!"

"And I was sponsored by Commander Spock," the boulder said.

So fully half of the squad were at the Academy precisely because the new leadership wanted them here. It made her wonder who was behind the reversal of her own rejection. "How did they get away with that?" Vera wondered. "I don't want special treatment. I want us to show we can do as well as any cadet here. Better, even."

"I don't think it's about special treatment," O'Reilly said. "That's not how they work. I think they wanted us together so we could help each other."

"You talk like you know them," Lessl snapped.

O'Reilly twisted the hem of his uniform tunic, then forced his hands to his sides. "I do know them. But I don't expect any privileges on account of it."

Her datapad chimed. She listened to the screen reader. "I've been given the code that opens the box. Our orders are, and I quote: 'All cadet shelters are to be completed by sunset.' That gives us eight hours. Barrie, you take Tolou and O'Reilly, get the box open and inventory the contents. Get any blueprints or assembly instructions to, hmm, Lessl and Lau. Olamina, I suspect Naraht is going to need some modifications to his part of the shelter. Get with him and put together a plan. Imre and Gnidziejko, with me." She started pulling duffels off the box, setting them in a corner of the chalk marked space. Imre and Gnidziejko rushed to help, and they had the box top clear in a few moments. Vera input the code and the box seal popped.

Miracle of miracles, they actually did what she asked, pairing off and spreading out to start working. She turned first to the Kelpien, keeping half an eye on the rest of the team. "Imre, I hate to sound speciesist, but I'm concerned about Lessl. She seems a little disconnected from the group. Today may be make or break for her."

Imre nodded. "I sense significant danger from her."

"Danger? Do you think she might hurt someone?" What does danger feel like, exactly? Later.

"Gorn are predators. Hunters. She may not have had to curb those instincts before. I fear she may lash out in a way she cannot take back."

Vera noted those gleaming sharp claws, trimmed and blunted on the index and thumb, but left long on the third finger of each hand and nodded. "I see what you mean."

Imre added, "Naraht could kill any one of us in an instant, but he is obsessively careful around 'soft people'. We've spent time together."

"Thanks for letting me know. Head over with her and Lau." Vera turned back to Gnidziejko. "So what's the deal with you and Tolou?"

"You mean aside from wanting to throttle him?"

"Aside from that."

"He's another telepath. But he doesn't believe in that superstitious stuff. If he doesn't get his head screwed on straight I'm not sure I can keep his infuriating ass alive." She looked around, counting. "Dr. McCoy is making me babysit him on account of it, and because he is an actual baby. What is that, four in one team?"

"Six, if you count empaths. And two prescients." She pointed out Imre and O'Reilly.

"Well, that's no accident."

"We're all here because we don't fit with the rest of the cadets. That's pretty obvious. So we can either become a big joke, or we can blow everyone else out of the water. I know what I plan to do. What is your deal, by the way? You look Vulcan, but you sure don't act it."

"I grew up on Earth. Mostly in Chicago and Ontario. Kinda chilled me out, ya know?"

The pun hit Vera on a two-second delay. She winced. "Oh. Oh, I see what you did there. Ouch. I'm going to circulate. You head over to Olamina and Naraht. We need to figure out if whatever he's outgassing is going to eat our lungs."

"I got you there," she said and joined her group. Vera moved from team to team, spending a minute or two with each, just like she would have at Camp Confidence, watching progress but also body language and expressions, looking to catch conflicts before they became heated, noticing particularly insightful remarks. This shouldn't be too different from being a camp counselor, right?


	3. Managing Unexpected Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing pieces and a blustery day make assembling barracks a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm late.

Luc Olamina sat down crosslegged on the ground about a meter from Naraht, wrinkling his nose at the pungent burnt chemical odor of sulfur dioxide. "Where is the sulfur dioxide coming from exactly? Do you exhale it?"

Naraht rumbled. Luc wondered if the sound signified embarrassment. "It is a secretion from my underside. A trace component of secretions that condition my sensory fringe."

"So like skin oils," Luc said.

Another rumble. "Yes."

"So you need something you can put on your sensory fringe that will neutralize the sulfur dioxide without harming you."

"I have wipes from home. Perhaps they will give you a place to start?" He trundled around the edge of their space, messing up the chalked dividing line between their square and squad one eighteen's space. Appendages extended from under his carapace to collect his duffel bag, then he returned to their designated spot. The appendages were smoother and defter than Luc expected, mostly charcoal gray in color, with flashes of red-gold. He collected a small silver case, opened it, and handed Luc a damp white square.

Luc rubbed it between his fingers, sniffed it. "Are you sensitive to sodium bicarbonate?"

"No."

"I would try that first. I do not have the equipment to analyze this but I suspect it contains either that or calcium carbonate."

The Vulcan who did not act like a Vulcan sat down with the two of them. "I've checked the literature for sulfur dioxide toxicity. It looks like we can neutralize the gas by spraying a two percent sodium bicarb solution in the air. If I had my medkit we could put something together now."

"We built an assembly plant on Janus IV to make scrubbers for the life support system because we used so many. Humanoid lungs are fragile."

"That they are," Gnidziejko agreed. "No one blames you for your biochemistry, you got that?"

Behind them, someone swore. "Count them again."

Luc looked over his shoulder at the trio who were laying out the components of their shelter on the ground. Cadet Alonso walked briskly over to consult with them. "So, these are the items we're missing?"

His own task as complete as it could be for the moment, he found himself drawn to the conversation behind him.

"We will need to revise the assembly instructions to use only what we have," Tolou said.

Barrie suggested, "We could ask for replacements."

"I'll get on that," Alonso told them. "You three figure out contingency plans in case we can't get replacements before sunset."

Gnidziejko got up to talk to Alonso, probably to ask her to add the scrubbers and sodium bicarbonate to the materials request. She didn't return to them right away but instead walked the perimeter. 

Luc ought to get up and help one of the other teams, but he wasn't thinking straight. It was too loud, there was too much going on and what was going on wasn't going well. What if they were not able to get the shelter up in time? Where would they sleep? He felt himself starting to rock and forced himself to stop, hoping none of his squadmates noticed.

"So, I think other squads are having the same problem," Gnidziejko told Alonso when she returned.

Alonso sighed. "It's part of the test. They're sending out our unit leader to bring the scrubbers but they don't have any L-brackets, bedding, or doors to spare. Lessl, Lau, let's have a look at these blueprints and see what we can do."

Something was really wrong. He didn't have a task and that wasn't right. He kept turning the problem of the missing materials over and over in his head. There was a rustle of fabric in front of him. Gnidziejko said quietly, "How can I help?"

That was a hard question. He wished he had his metronome. "Metronome," he said.

"What speed?"

"Seventy-two."

Gnidziejko apparently didn't have a metronome, but she snapped her fingers at exactly the right speed and Luc could turn his attention fully on figuring out how to build a shelter with pieces missing.

When he felt up to talking more he said, "I have a metronome in my duffel. You won't have to snap for me all the time."

"Keeping everybody at their best is my job," she said.

"You have a good time sense. is it a Vulcan thing?"

"Double dutch team in high school." _What was double dutch?_ "It's a real sport," she insisted.

Behind them, Lessl asked Alonso, "Can we take what we need from the other squads?"

Alonso snapped, "No! They're not our enemies."

Luc stopped still. "All the shelters must be up by sunset, not our shelter must be up by sunset." They were responsible, collectively, for two hundred shelters, not just for their own.

"It's a cooperation exercise!" Alonso said. "Of course! You figured it out, Olamina."

Alonso was just another cadet, put in charge of them for practice, but the praise felt good regardless. He grinned.

The other cadet he thought might be like him jumped up. "I can get us what we need. We'll trade for it, just like back in Korea."

Alonso acknowledged him with a curt nod. "I'll go with you. The rest of you get started laying out the floor."

Luc approached his tiny friend from registration. "Nen! I mean Cadet Tolou. Can you show Naraht and me what to do?"

Tolou lay a pair of white polymer tiles a meter on a side next to each other on the ground. The bottoms had short spikes on them, like cleats, while the tops were marbled and lightly textured. Once they were resting in the right orientation, he hopped up and stomped on them. Nothing happened.

"Is that the way they should go together?" Luc asked.

"I do not have enough weight," Tolou explained. He fluttered to the side. Luc stepped onto the platform, jumped where the joints came together, and they snapped satisfyingly into place. They got into a rhythm, Tolou and Naraht setting the tiles into place, Luc and the Gorn, Lessl, stomping them together.

*

The brand new cadets had not fully settled into the rhythm of communal life or the constraints of the chain of command. They'd all been drilled on how to stand and how to move, whose orders to follow and how to address them. The details were a little different from the way things worked back home. O'Reilly supposed that was inevitable with a change to a different branch of the service, since Starfleet seemed to be about half Navy, a quarter Air Force and the other quarter he wasn't quite sure what. The three hundred years of history between his Army and this Starfleet added to the sense of unfamiliarity. He'd already got puzzled looks from officers when he'd saluted out of habit. One had even asked derisively if he thought he was in a historical drama. "Do you think we should include things from our personal effects boxes?"

"There won't be much that people will want to part with," Alonso told him. "It's an awfully small box."

Walter shrugged. "Half my box is full of stuff to trade. I've got stamps and postcards, some coins and paper money. People like old stuff and I've got a lot of old stuff at home. Old compared to here anyway." They stopped just long enough to be told by another squad leader that they were doing just fine and that they ought to go back to their own square before they got in trouble. So far they'd gotten one squad to share information and been turned down by four others. "I got a good feeling about squad one oh eight," Walter said as casually as he could.

"Sounds like a plan," Alonso agreed. "There was nothing in our orders that said we had to stay in our squares. Trouble with some of these cadets is they have always been at the top of their classes. They make rules around the rules and think in straight lines."

"Sounds kinda boring, if you ask me," Walter said. "My friends call me Radar."

"So, Radar," she said, accepting the nickname without comment, "Where you from, really?"

"Iowa," he said, maybe messing with her just a little.

"Never heard of it. Wait, Riverside shipyards. That Iowa?"

"Nope." He tucked his thumbs into his waistband, enjoying making her work for the information she wanted. They reached squad one oh eight, the one with the centipede-scorpion creature, who crept up to them and raised the front third of their body, displaying a gold command candidate's bar on their uniform. He knew they were curious and nervous, just like he was, but it was still a challenge to look at their nightmare face and smile through his racing heart. "Walter O'Reilly," he said, nod-bowing the way he'd seen some other cadets greet each other. "We're organizing a system to trade for the missing components in our shelter kits."

"Nkaan Ptet’tik," the centipede creature said through a vocoder programmed to emit a feminine voice. "We have extra wall panels and seam tape and are missing flooring."

Ouch! The flooring would have to be put down before the walls could go up. They'd be under time pressure. Walter tapped the information into his datapad. "Thanks! If you wanna send out a team of your own, here's the spreadsheet file. It should sync in real time."

"We will send," Ptet'tik assessed her fellow cadets, "two teams, possibly three. We cannot begin assembly until we have a floor."

"That's great, Ptet'tik! I hope it doesn't take too long to find what you need."

"Agreed." Ptet'tik crawled away to address her squad. Walter and Vera moved on.

"One oh six is right here," Vera said.

Something wasn't right about the squad, or the timing, something he couldn't put his finger on. "Not yet."

"All right, it's all the same to me as long as you're keeping track." She strolled beside him and he wondered how she could be so relaxed. "So," she said, "You learned how to trade for stuff in Korea."

"I sure coulda used a spreadsheet like this back then. Had to keep it all on these yellow notepads and up in my head." The brackets they needed were back the other direction, one twenty-five or one twenty-seven. "This way."

"I'm trying to figure out how you decide where to go and I'm completely stumped. Do you have a plan?"

Walter shrugged, pretending it wasn't a big deal. Pretending he wasn't worried about what she'd think of him. Whether she'd laugh at him. "Sometimes I know what's going to happen before it happens. Used to be I just kind of took what came to me, but I've been practicing looking ahead."

"I don't believe our future is decided."

"Oh it sure isn't. Be a lot easier if it was." He looked down at the spreadsheet, which had already picked up a couple of entries from Ptet'tik's squad. "Let's see if we can get more teams working on the problem." Now that he was thinking of getting everybody involved and not just finding what they needed, the next place to stop was clearer. "One nineteen next."

"Lead on, Radar," Alonso said, letting him lead the way.

*

Imre was pleasantly surprised by the lunch that had been packed for her, thick little rounds of a white, sticky grain surrounded by seaweed and stuffed with vegetables, along with round, doughy dumplings filled with a sweet but substantial paste. Each of them had been given labeled, prepackaged meals with warnings in large writing not to share. Gnidziejko reiterated the warnings when Barrie passed out the meals, reminding them, "One being's lunch is another's one's poison."

Most of them had variations on the little rolls and dumplings, though Lessl had delicate slices of pink and white flesh with a seaweed salad that she chose not to eat and was not allowed to share, and Naraht consumed a canister of what looked and smelled like ore processing waste.

"Lunch break is over," Alonso announced. They placed the remains of their lunches in the box provided and a little cleaner bot rolled down the rows to collect their refuse. Everyone but O'Reilly returned to the work of assembling their shelter. O'Reilly sat on an upturned crate at a folding table with three datapads in front of him and having at least as many conversations with Communications track cadets scattered across the entire field.

The brackets were delivered while they were taking their meal, which meant that they could now erect the walls. Naraht had received bedding and a bunk entirely unsuitable for his body and had offered the blanket and sheets to fashion curtains to hide the sonic showers and toilets from view, freeing up two wall panels to create a tiny alcove in which he could rest when the weather required them to close the shelter's windows.

The walls themselves snapped into the floor panels, then were reinforced with brackets and pins. They were designed so that, if necessary, two people with an abundance of time could put up the whole shelter by themselves, but the wind had picked up as the sun passed its zenith and it was growing more difficult to control the meter wide, two meter tall wall panels.

Imre hadn't realized just how windy it had gotten until she heard a warbling shriek and saw a bundle of dark feathers roll across the grass to bump up against the wall they already had assembled. Tolou sat up but stayed huddled against the wall, his fingers and beak busy tucking his feathers back into place. Imre, for her part, was glad that they had placed the stakes before beginning to assemble the walls and had taken the precaution of planting Naraht solidly in the middle of the assembled floor. She considered the wisdom of tying little Tolou to him for safekeeping, but rejected the thought after imagining him carried up into the air like a kite on a string.

As the tallest, her duty was to stabilize the tops of each panel while Lessl and Sofie, the strongest, held the panels against the wind and Paden and Lau placed the brackets and pins. It was it was growing too windy to hear each other over the buffeting of the polymer panels and they were all getting tired of shouting. Lessl and Imre stepped away from the latest panel to make room for Paden to attach its side to the one beside it.

Imre had only a moment to sense sudden _Danger!_ and stifle the urge to run. O'Reilly stood up from his table, his eyes suddenly wide. The wind scooped under the stakes on one side of their shelter and with a harsh crack as loud as thunder overhead, two floor panels and the wall panel they were attaching snapped.

" _Look out!_ " Lau shouted while snatching Barrie away from the falling panel, her voice warmer and more resonant than Imre remembered, its tone cutting through the noise of the wind as though the air were perfectly still.

Barrie ducked and rolled on instinct. Lessl and Gnidziejko dove for the broken panels before they could take to the air, and Imre helped the two of them set the piece of their shelter back on the ground neatly. 

Barrie sat on the ground looking away from them. She could hear his breaths, too fast for a human. Lau stood a couple of meters away from him, her face pale and open mouthed with horror. Her hands balled into fists at her sides.

"No." Barrie whispered. "No no no go away, get out, get out!" His voice rose on every word until he was shouting, tugging frantically at his dress uniform.

Lau turned on her heel and walked briskly and stiffly away as though she was trying not to run.


	4. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cadet Lau accidentally reminds Cadet Barrie of past trauma.

Paden Barrie crouched near the ground, carefully sticking long, thick pins through preformed holes in the wall panels of their barracks, astonished at how quickly the early afternoon warmth had been sucked out of their hands by the chill, buffeting wind coming off the bay. The air smelled of minerals and decay that ought to have been more unpleasant than it was.

The rough surface of the panel bucked against them, abrading their fingers. They listened for instructions from the girls crowded around them, each with their own task, but it was hard to hear over the sound of the wind warping and snapping the plastic. 

" _Look out!"_

The shout cut through the noise with unnatural clarity. They had tucked and rolled away from the wall, obeying on instinct, before their stomach dropped and they swallowed salty saliva. _It_ had spoken in their head. It was back--no, it couldn't be back, they were gone, all gone and they hadn't heard anything like that jarring nonsound in years. 

Their body wasn't interested in listening to reason. They stared straight ahead, barely seeing, though they recognized Lau walking briskly away from the rest of the group. Their pulse roared in their ears and the numb patch on their back crawled and itched as though sticky jellyfish tendrils were trying to dig through uniform and skin to wrap around their spine. Their teeth squeaked where their jaw had locked them together.

O'Reilly and Alonso strode past them, toward Lau while two others crouched down beside them, close enough to block the wind. They couldn't bring themself to turn their head to see who was there. They couldn't break free of the feeling that _it_ was back, crawling up their spinal cord and into their brain to demand that they kill them all. **Kill them all.** Their memory supplied them with flashes of horrors. Their imagination twisted the images of blood and death to include the faces of their squadmates. _"No! Get out, get out!"_ they screamed at it, balling their hands into fists and jamming them into their thighs as the ghosts of remembered agony poured down their spine and into their limbs.

His companions, Gnidziejko and Imre by their voices, spoke quietly to each other and to Paden, though they couldn't make out what the girls said. They wouldn't be safe from the monster. Paden forced words out of their mouth. "It's back. You have to tie me up. Don't let me hurt you."

"You're having a flashback. You won't hurt us," Gnidziejko said calmly. "Hold them, their back to your chest," she told Imre. "Firmly. It's okay, you're not restraining them, you're helping them feel secure." Long, wiry arms wrapped around them, hesitating until Paden leaned back into the embrace. Imre held them in the hollow of her lap, her long legs crossed underneath Paden's knees. They didn't feel the urge to struggle like they would have if the parasite had actually reawakened inside them. They felt their heart rate slow a little, pressed up against Imre's warm and bony chest.

"It is only fear," Imre said in their ear. "Hear the wind. Blow out each breath, slow. Try to be louder than the wind."

Paden's breath caught, but they tried to follow Imre's instructions. The Kelpien was an expert in fear. She would understand. "What if I hurt someone," they said between breaths.

The medic, Gnidziejko, shook her head. "Do you want to hurt someone?"

In. Out. "No."

"Then you won't." She gave them a minute to breathe. "Have you had intrusive thoughts before?"

In. Out. "Not in a long time."

"Any idea what triggered you?"

They shook their head. "I don't know." They didn't want to think about it. Poking the monster might wake it back up again, and it had only just begun to settle. "Think they'll send me back?"

Gnidziejko waved away that worry. "Nah, Starfleet attracts trauma. They will make you deal with it before you graduate though. You're Denevan. Were you infected?"

They couldn't bring themself to answer, but they didn't really have to. Not answering told them everything anyway. "When Lau shouted at me, I don't know, something about it made me remember the way the parasite got into my head." He backed away from the memory, turned to a more general retelling. "The parasites told us what to do, and hurt us until we did it. Some people could resist. They died, mostly." They looked past Gnidziejko to where Alonso and Lau were walking back to the group. Lau's face was puffy and red like she had been or maybe was still crying. 

Lau crouched beside Paden. "Are they going to be okay?"

"No thanks to you," Gnidziejko said brusquely, not acknowledging her question. "Go on, before you set them off again." Lau pressed her lips together tightly and nodded once, not quite suppressing a sniffle, then got up and hurried after Alonso.

"It's not her fault," Paden said, watching her walk over to the damaged pieces of their barracks. Most of the activity around them had stopped; the squads of cadets left their building projects to huddle in groups on the ground, some of them scrolling on their datapads, others seeming to use the time to socialize. Paden sat in a limbo of frantic inactivity waiting for their battered nervous system to work its way through the aftershocks. Imre held them firmly from behind, the warmth and pressure against their back reminding them that the parasite was gone. 

Gnidziejko left briefly and returned with a bright blue Starfleet issue medkit in hand. "I'm just going to check your vitals." Paden forced a sharp nod. The medscanner whirred. She checked her datapad and tucked the device back into the bag. "Take it easy for a bit. Looks like I've got some electrolyte replacement solution. Drink up."

She passed them a quarter-liter bottle. They knew from experience that when something set them off they could usually get up and fake it after a few minutes, even if they were still going to feel like shit for the rest of the day. "I'll go talk to her," they said.

"You don't have to do that," Gnidziejko protested.

Paden pulled away from Imre and struggled to their feet, muscles that wouldn't relax fighting their movements and reminding them forcefully of the nerve damage in their back and neck.

They stumbled the dozen steps or so to where Lau sat in a despondent ball on the ground and gingerly sat down beside her in the grass.

She looked up at them. "I'm sorry. I saw the wall snap and I just--I just forgot." She screwed her mouth up into a rueful half-smile.

Paden scoffed. "You had no way of knowing I was possessed when I was fourteen."

Lau blinked. "You were what?"

They fell back onto the grass, trying to work the kinks out of their back. After a minute, they said, "Long story I really don't want to talk about right now. Anyway, Gnidziejko shouldn't have snapped at you."

She dropped her chin to her knees. "I assaulted you. I think."

"You guess?" Paden echoed, curious.

"How would you feel if you had to remember all the time that your native language was socially equivalent to groping people."

They snorted a laugh. "Sorry," they choked out. "That's just quite an image."

"I guess so." She looked at him appraisingly. "You always go from panicky to silly?"

"Pretty much, yeah." They straightened out their face. "I want you to do it again."

"What? Why?"

Paden chewed their lip. "Because I don't want to be defined by the worst thing that ever happened to me."

Alonso returned from whatever she'd been doing to sit next to Lau, keeping a low profile against the wind, and waved the rest of them into a huddle ending any chance at a private conversation. "This isn't going to die down for a while," she said. Without the wall panels rattling, it was easier to hear each other.

O'Reilly sank down beside her, still juggling datapads. "We're still doing matches and deliveries, but most of the squad leaders are suspending construction until seventeen hundred hours."

"So, what are we supposed to do for the next three hours?" Lessl said, sounding as though she was trying hard to keep the complaint out of her voice.

"Circle up, everyone." Alonso gestured to the group. Everyone except Tolou scooted together.

The little bird stayed curled up behind the couple of panels that were already assembled. "I'm fine over here," he squeaked. Gnidziejko stood up, squeezed Paden's shoulder, and moved next to Tolou, which resulted in him hunching down sulkily.

She looked down at her datapad and back at all of them. "We're all supposed to pair up. Everyone gets a buddy. No one goes anywhere this summer without their buddy." She waited for the chorus of groans to rise and fall. "Don't roll your eyes at me, this is coming from higher up. I've made my picks and I have my reasons. Gnidziejko, you and Tolou are buddies. That one was chosen for me." Tolou whistled unhappily.

"Lessl, you're with me." Imre opened her mouth to protest, but Alonso cut her off. "Imre, you're with Olamina." She turned toward Paden where they lay on the grass. "Barrie I'm putting you with Lau. You both have things to work out. Work them out together." 

"And that leaves O'Reilly and Naraht. Any questions?"

Imre clicked nervously. "It would seem wiser from a security standpoint if Lessl were paired with me."

"Lessl is a cadet, not a prisoner on parole. This is not up for discussion. Barrie and Lau, are you two good?"

Barrie nodded. "We're good. Accidents happen."

Gnidziejko decided to interject her own opinion. "Accidents can't happen, Lau. You have to learn to keep a lid on or you're going to get your ass sent home and the rest of us will have to deal with the fallout."

"Says the Vulcan with the stick up her butt," Lau snapped back.

"Canadian."

Lau glared at her. "Fine, the Canadian with the stick up her butt. What do you think, O'Reilly, did I screw up as bad as she thinks I did?"

O'Reilly shook his head without looking up from the data pads on the grass in front of him. "No way. I am not getting involved in a girl fight."

Alonso cleared her throat. "And this is why all the humans are paired up with a nonhuman. This is Earth, and most of the higher-ups are human. You're going to be judged by what humans think is acceptable behavior. Rely on your buddy."

O'Reilly winced. "I don't think anyone ought to be counting on me for that."

Alonso challenged, "And why is that?"

"Because I was born in nineteen forty-two. Old Earth Dating System. And I keep getting reminded how much has changed. I might as well be an alien."

"Bull. Shit." Alonso got ahold of herself. "So are you like an immortal or something?"

"No, I'm twenty. I just skipped some of the years in between."

"He's from Earthtoo. You're from Earthtoo, right?" Olamina grinned and pointed as though he'd just solved a tricky puzzle. He stopped and tilted his head like he was suddenly confused. "You don't have warp capable ships."

O'Reilly ducked his head, embarrassed, maybe. "I don't understand all the politics, myself," he evaded. He kept looking from Paden to Lau and back, like he wanted to ask them something but didn't want to do it in the group. Paden had seen the way the two of them partnered up. Was he jealous?

The kid from the other Earth blushed to his ears, then scrubbed at his face like he was trying to hide it. Paden felt sorry for the guy. "Relax, I'm not the competition." Their voice sounded almost normal in their ears. Not too shaky or high.

"I didn't say you was. Were. Ah, hell!" He stood up to pace at the edge of the group.

Paden hoped it would be a while before the wind died down. Their back was screaming at them, though, and it wasn't likely to get any better if they spent the rest of the day bending and lifting. Back at the group home, letting anyone know you were hurting made you a target. The kids who'd lost their families to the infected took it out on kids who'd had parasites, and who could blame them, really? It was just better all around if they just pushed through it on their own.

*

If you asked Leonard, the rest of the team was enjoying the cadets' struggles too much. Jim, Spock, and Uhura had decided to join him at the aid station once the wind kicked up, their little knot of folding chairs tucked away into a corner next to the Cochrane Warp and Subspace Physics building.

Spock spent most of his time flicking through his datapad and offering tidbits of data to the other two. "I have accessed the shared spreadsheet constructed by Cadets Vargas, Kethet, T'Lat, O'Reilly, and Li. They appear to have added an efficiency algorithm to reduce the time required to deliver materials, and in addition, have created a cadet groupchat divided by divisions and specialties."

"That explains why they stopped working all at once an hour ago," Jim noted. "They really ought to get used to this weather. It's going to blow like this every afternoon."

"As I recall. However, ceasing operations until the sea breeze dies down, given that it will predictably do so well before sunset is, arguably, getting used to the weather."

Jim gave Spock's shoulder a squeeze. "Not fond of San Francisco weather?"

"It is damp, cold, and unpleasantly windy during the one Earth season that should approach comfortable. I believe I preferred April in Korea."

"You did not!" Leonard interjected. "I expected to see more injuries than we did, frankly."

Spock handed him the datapad, open to a section of the spreadsheet containing the names, squads, and level of first aid training of dozens of cadets, some of whom weren't even medical track. "If you open the tab marked 'patient records' you will see a list of injured cadets and the first aid provided."

"Jim, I'm not sure the Admiralty is gonna like this," Leonard said, returning the datapad with a chuckle. "These kids did better than an awful lot of grown-ass Starfleet officers do in training exercises, with no chain of command past the squad level and darn near strangers besides."

Uhura grinned. "They crowdsourced the exercise."

Jim's smile grew thoughtful. "You're right about the Admiralty. As much as they say they value initiative and creativity--"

"Actually seeing it in action is gonna make them piss their pants," Leonard finished for him.

"They will demand evidence that we are also instructing the cadets on the importance of the chain of command," Spock noted. "Especially given your tendency to flout it at every opportunity."

"My tendency to flout the chain of command! What about you two?"

"I only object to your orders when they're wrong, _Captain_ ," Leonard insisted. "I have to have enough common sense to make up for the two of you."

Spock had to get his own two cents in. "I respect the chain of command."

Leonard tried to throw an empty foam coffee cup at him, but it blew across the field faster than he had the legs to chase it instead.

"Littering, Doctor?" he said, as archly as his eyebrow.

"Your fault. Respect the chain of command, my ass."


	5. Icebreakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squad 116 settles in for the evening as its members start to get to know each other.

The sea breeze, as it was euphemistically called, died down around seventeen hundred hours. Walter put down the datapads just long enough to help assemble the rest of the barracks. With everyone working together and all the missing pieces found, it only took an hour and a half to assemble, and once complete, it turned out to be much sturdier than it looked, even with the repairs they'd had to make. Walter thought the duct tape gave the barracks a homely look. He reached up to run a thumb along the joint.

Lau came up close behind him. She felt like apples and chicory, sturdy and sweet and somehow deliberate, more art than accident. "Is it holding?" she asked, carefully aloud.

He nodded. "Yeah. It just makes me think of home."

"Tape makes you nostalgic."

He chuckled. "It was new, you know. Invented during the war. World War Two. It just strikes me funny that something like it still gets used after so long."

"We'll never advance so much we won't need tape," she said. "Come inside and pick out a bunk."

He followed her into the barracks. To his left was the wide door leading to Naraht's alcove, where he wasn't at the moment since all the windows were wide open and there was still a cross breeze. The Horta took up most of the space to the right of the door, where he'd set up a low table not much bigger than a lap desk. Directly in front of Walter was a long table with bench seats on either side, smoother and sleeker than the tables in the Army mess, but in the same family. To his right, five bunk beds were spread out to fill the right half of the room, occupied by assigned buddies. Alonso gestured Walter to the middle bunk of a set of three on the forward wall, the top of which had been turned into storage since his buddy wouldn't be bunking with him.

His datapads were already sitting on the mattress along with the bedding. Alonso said, "Inspection at nineteen thirty. The unit leader's supposed to be bringing dinner."

Walter set himself to making his bed. It only took a minute to get the sheets and blanket on tight and straight with hospital corners. When he looked up, he found everyone staring at him in what looked like awe. "That's just how it's done. It's easier with a wingman."

He was closely watched by the person who looked like a dinosaur and he oughtn't even think that but the green, faintly scaly skin, mouth full of sharp teeth, and eerily blank eyes made it hard to avoid the comparison. "Where did you learn to do that so fast, human?" Gorn, she was a Gorn.

"I used to be in the Army back home. Almost three years. I kinda fudged about my age." He picked up his datapads and headed for the table to sit across from Cadet Alonso. He sat up straighter and spoke more formally. "Cadet Alonso, I'm seeing one hundred forty-eight out of two hundred barracks assembled. Dispatch is looking for folks to send to help out the stragglers."

Alonso snorted a laugh. "Dispatch. Really? You communications track cadets are getting a head start on delusions of grandeur." She looked around the room. "Send assignments to our datapads, O'Reilly. Barrie, Lau, Olamina, Imre head on out. Lessl and I will follow in a minute. "

"Aye," Olamina said as though it was second nature to him. The others followed him out the door.

"Naraht, sit tight for now. Your buddy needs to work 'dispatch.' Gnidziejko, if you think Tolou's up to it, you two can head out, too." She waved to Lessl and the two of them closed the door behind them.

"So, am I still grounded, medic?" Tolou asked sharply.

Gnidziejko sighed. "No. But you'll be more use helping me if I have to go out on a call than you would be raising barracks. So, astrophysicist, you done any of the reading on telepathic communications bands you were supposed to do?"

Walter kept half an ear on their conversation and half an eye on the stream of texts scrolling up his datapad.

Tolou clicked his annoyance. "People can write anything they want. Doesn't make it real."

"For Pete's sake!" Gnidziejko buried her face in her arms for a moment, groaning theatrically. "O'Reilly. Radar. Buddy, help me out here."

"Naraht's my buddy," he teased. "You got warp drives, right, Tolou?"

"My father led the team that built our first warp-capable vessel." There was more than a little pride in his voice.

"You have subspace communications?"

"That was invented when I was a chick."

Tolou was still a chick, as far as Walter was concerned, but he didn't say so. "Same thing."

"Not really," Gnidziejko protested.

"Close enough," Walter mumbled, briefly distracted by an exchange on his datapad.

Gnidziejko pushed back from the table and stomped over to her bunk. "I'm going to sit over here and pretend I'm by myself." She folded herself into a meditative posture and closed her eyes, leaving Walter effectively alone with Tolou, given that Naraht was buried in whatever he was reading on his datapad.

"What did I say?" Walter asked no one in particular.

Tolou's feathered crest twitched with irritation. "When a delusional person is confronted with their errors, they will avoid argument in order to protect their beliefs."

"Ain't that what you're doing?"

"False beliefs are dangerous," Tolou sniffed.

"Seems to me like yours is gonna make you dead." Walter turned his attention back to his datapad. Whoever T'Lat was, they really knew their way around a requisitioning system. He wished getting people and supplies where they needed to be had been this easy back at the 4077th. Tolou sulked at his end of the table. He'd given Gnidziejko the coldest shoulder he could all day and extended it to Walter and Trinna as soon as he figured out they were as "delusional" as she was. Still, Walter thought he ought to try to get along. "Don't feel too bad, I'm catching up on all the science stuff, too."

"Nobody has magic powers. That's not science."

Walter shrugged. "Guess it ain't magic, then." He wasn't in the mood to argue with a wall, so he pushed away from the table and plopped down on his bunk to work, trying to be quiet so he wouldn't disturb Gnidziejko.

The rest of the squad returned two by two. Walter set to work helping them make up their bunks. Lessl tore a sheet with her claws and swore. "These flat beds are ridiculous anyway," she complained. "A bed should be rounder and more sheltered, so no one can sneak up on you while you sleep. And not covered with these fragile--what are they called?"

"Sheets," Walter supplied.

"Our unit leader is coming," Naraht volunteered.

Walter nervously straightened the datapads lying on his bunk. The unit leader remained outside, slowly circling the barracks while the squad stood frozen in place and silent, waiting. Suddenly the duct tape holding the wall together didn't feel so comfortingly homely. The unit leader was sky blue and stiff-backed, with lips pursed into a disapproving frown that was entirely fake, given the feeling he got from them was more that they were trying hard not to laugh. 

After three trips around the barracks, they let themselves in the door and dropped a foot-square box into Trinna's arms. "My name is Vannisar zh'Talseh. You may use she or they Standard pronouns to refer to me, though neither is entirely accurate." She glanced around the room. "Line up in front of your bunks for inspection. Parade rest."

Walter kept his eyes front. Alonso stood to his left. Across from him, Luc's parade rest was almost as precise as his own, while Imre managed to give the impression of graceful swaying even while completely still. Zh'Talseh stopped in front of Walter. "Where is your bunkmate?"

"By the door, Ma'am. He doesn't fit on a bunk."

She caught sight of him sitting, or standing, it was hard to tell, by the door. "So I see." Her gaze settled on Sofie and Nen's beds. "Your blanket's not straight. Strip the bed and do it again. Anyone want to tell me why it's important to make your bed to proper standards?"

No one spoke. "How about sloppy and sloppy in the corner?" zh'Talseh prompted.

There was a brief pause, then Gnidziejko hazarded, "Because you don't know, when you get up, how late it will be when you see your bed again."

Zh'Talseh nodded. "Spoken like an ambulance driver."

"Paramedic," Gnidziejko corrected.

"You know, when I was a plebe, back talk like that would get me a hundred push-ups or an extra two-mile run. But," she sighed theatrically, "I've been told I have to wait until tomorrow to whip you plebes into shape. So, any other suggestions?"

"You don't know if someone else might need the bed before you do, Ma'am," Walter volunteered.

Olamina shuffled his feet.

"Something to say, cadet Olamina?"

"Self-discipline in small things leads to self-discipline in greater things," he quoted quietly.

Zh'Talseh actually smiled. "Page thirty-five of Core Points. All right, enough fucking around. Table."

Walter followed her to the table. They sorted themselves out into the seats, Walter stuck between Trinna and Gnidziejko while they stared holes into each other's heads. Zh'Talseh passed out their meals, which had clever little heating mechanisms in the boxes. "We sure to return the containers to the receptacles at the ends of each row. There is no such thing as trash here," she told them. "Reveille is at 0530 tomorrow. PT in the morning, breakfast in Shran Hall, then Starfleet Regs until noon. Lunch on the field. More PT, Starfleet History, dinner in the mess, and an after dinner challenge, then lights out at 2200 hours. Any questions?"

"When do we get any free time?" Lessl asked.

"Winter Break," zh'Talseh answered with a hint of sadistic glee. "I need to get to my other squad before they starve. Alonso, the evening challenge is on your datapad. See you all in the south practice field at 0600 sharp."

She turned and marched smartly out of the barracks. Walter opened his heated container to find beans and rice with salsa and guacamole. Some of the other dishes he could see had what looked like cubes of grilled chicken with the beans and rice. Lessl's meal had rice and a larger serving of chicken, but no beans. "I wonder how long it will be before they trust us to feed ourselves," Alonso said.

Sofie answered without looking up. "Probably a while. There's nothing at the table that could poison anyone here, though. The worst that could happen is Lessl could get a stomachache from the legumes."

"Did you look everyone up?"

She shrugged. "Of course I did. Gorn can't tolerate a lot of carbohydrates and can be poisoned by the allium family. That's why there's no onion in the salsa. Nobody knows what will poison Tolou. They gave me some extra supplies in my medkit because they figure he'll run into a nasty surprise sooner or later. Theobromine affects me like THC and most Betazoids don't tolerate pepper."

"What's theobromine in?" Lau asked innocently.

"Chocolate," Olamina supplied.

Lau's grin turned wicked. "Oh, I am going to remember that."

Oh no. Walter wished the dress uniform had a hat he could pull all the way down over his face. Beside him, Gnidziejko carefully set down her cutlery. "We still need to talk about earlier."

"What's there to talk about? You all but told me if I messed up again you'd have me kicked out."

"I did not. But there are real issues around consent you have to respect."

"I don't see Naraht insisting everyone else run around all day with their eyes closed so they won't see what he looks like!"

"Why would he do that?" Lessl asked.

"Because he's _blind,_ " Lau clarified irritably. "You seriously didn't know that? "

Alonso was still buried in her datapad. "Finish eating, we've got stuff to do, and lights out is in two hours."

Walter was a little surprised they all shut up and devoted themselves to the task at hand. He stood up first to collect their containers and Lau followed, picking up the others so he wouldn't have to juggle nine of them. They walked out to the recycling container together. The wind had died down, a few stars were visible through the orange outdoor lights, and it felt good to get out of the mess of tangled emotion in the barracks, even if he was bringing some of it with him.

"Is she right, Walter?" Lau asked while they were walking back to the barracks.

He stopped. This might take more than the ten seconds or so before they reached the door. "Yeah," he said, not willing to meet her eyes.

"So. Humans think we're scary and disgusting just because of how we--" She broke off to pace, clutching herself across her middle. "How we _are_. Walter, I don't know about you but I can't just shut myself down. I mean, I don't want to, just thinking about it is lonely and awful." She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. "But even if I did, I don't think I could shield perfectly enough for nothing to ever get through."

"I don't think you have to be perfect," he assured her, though he wasn't sure.

" _She_ does. Maybe she's right. Maybe this whole Starfleet thing was a bad idea and we should just stick with our own kind."

"Oh don't give up already. Please." Not now that he was starting to get attached.

"Give me one good reason why not."

 _Because I like you._ "Because some of us don't have a kind to stick to. I don't. Tolou doesn't."

"That's..." She pretended to be interested in a star overhead. Venus. That was Venus, he corrected himself. He missed Venus--it hadn't come along with his Earth when the Grantville aliens picked it up and dragged it across the quadrant. "That's just sad."

"It's not just sad. Trinna, I got beat up when I was a kid for mistakes like the one you made."

"And you never learned?"

"I learned sometimes if you're not sure it's better not to say anything at all. And I learned that if people think you're not real bright, and if you try extra hard to be helpful and funny, and if you find the right group of people, you can get by."

"Well as long as that arrogant Vulcan is breathing down my neck this isn't going to be the right group of people."

"She's not breathing down your neck because she's Vulcan."

"Oh? What would you know about it?"

"She's breathing down your neck because she's twenty-three, and you're seventeen, and she thinks she has to be the adult because she's older."

"Oh yeah? She tell you that?"

"No. I mean, she said she was twenty-three. I know because I'm twenty and I feel it too. The rest of you guys sometimes feel like kids to me. I've been in a real war, Trinna. I've seen people die."

She squished her face into a sympathetic smile. _So have I._

He pulled her into a hug. "Tell me later. We gotta get back."

*

Now that it was assembled, the barracks was sturdy, solid, and not at all open enough. Nen felt like the walls and ceiling were shrinking down against him, the bodies in the room too many, too close, and too loud. He perched on his bunk in the corner of the barracks. He wanted to fly more than anything, up and away over the bay. More than anything, he didn't want to be here among these strange and superstitious people while his own sanity left him so much faster than he thought it would.

"Come on over here, Tolou," Alonso said, probably not for the first time. Nen fluttered down from his bed, landed badly, and stumbled closer to the group. His keeper stared at him.

Alonso was talking. "I've been told that since we--that means everybody, not just our squad--accomplished the mission, we get an easy task for this evening. So. When we finish with that we've got a hard one. Our easy task is one of those silly icebreaker things. We have to say something we saw the next person in the alphabet do that impressed us. Zh'Talseh's going to quiz us in the morning at PT."

"I'll write them down," O'Reilly volunteered.

"Thank you. Alphabetical order means I go first and I have to say something about Barrie. I was impressed with how fast you figured out what the other squads needed and just got right in there and helped out."

Barrie looked at Gnidziejko. "Thanks for talking me down when I flipped out."

"Just doing my job," Gnidziejko said. "Imre, if you hadn't caught that wall when it broke people could have gotten hurt. That was quick thinking."

The improbably tall, graceful Kelpien looked around the room. "Who's next? Lau? I'm still amazed at how fast you came up with how to use what we had on hand to build Naraht's alcove."

Lau ducked her head. "Lessl, jumping on the floor tiles to make them snap together was a really good idea."

Lessl shrugged. Her body language was the easiest of all of them to read. She looked, if he was guessing right, unbearably smug. "I'm not used to saying nice things about people. Naraht. You're really heavy, which is useful. But you're also really careful. Which I guess you have to be." She shrunk into herself. "Sorry, where I come from saying something nice about someone means you want to do sex with them."

"I think you would die," Naraht commented. "But anyway, I will not reach sexual maturity for several decades. If ever."

Lessl bobbled her head, amused. "That's--comforting. It's your turn."

Naraht did the thing with his sonar that rattled inside Nen's bones. "I have Olamina. You talked to me like I was a person right away. I like that. It makes me feel safe."

Olamina answered, "You are a person. How else would I talk to you? O'Reilly, um. You're really organized. I don't think we would have completed the mission without you."

O'Reilly turned to look at Nen. He wanted to look away. He wondered what would happen if he just ran out the back door of the barracks, climbed to the top of one of the buildings, and jumped off. How far could he glide before he had to land? "It's all right," he mumbled. "I know I didn't do anything useful."

"I dunno. You were the first person to notice we were missing parts. And I know strangers and close quarters are both hard to get used to."

"Cadet Alonso is the only one left," Nen said. He'd been so miserable, and to be fair, wallowing in it, that he hadn't really paid much attention to Alonso, besides doing what she told him to do as much as he could manage. "I am taking up a place that could be filled by a real cadet. I am grateful that you permit me to stay."

Alonso acknowledged his comment with a nod, though she was not smiling. "Right. Okay, so now that we can agree that we're all pretty cool, we've got to deal with what happened this afternoon. And I don't mean punishing anybody. Barrie and Lau have discussed their particular situation with me privately, and it's none of the rest of your business unless they decide it should be. But."

"But we all need to learn how to respect each other's boundaries," Gnidziejo said pointedly.

"And to do that, we need to know where those boundaries even are. So we have to actually talk to each other and not make assumptions."

Nen had been too distracted by being blown all over the place to know what had gone on between Barrie and Lau. He knew Gnidziejko had her feathers puffed over it, though. Around him, the discussion meandered into charged territory, Nen's heart started to race in his chest and he had to retreat back to his bunk in the corner.

About half an hour later Gnidziejko made her way back to his bunk. She stood near one end, folded her arms on his mattress, and rested her chin on them. Nen scooted a little further away.

"I'm not going to lecture you," she said quietly. "I know you're scared, and alone, and hurting. And I'm bossy and defensive."

"And disconnected from reality," Nen added.

"Hey, I'm trying to apologize here," she protested.

"You don't have to be responsible for me."

"I have orders, so I do." She rolled her head to the side to look at him square on. "Look, I've been so busy trying to explain my point of view that I haven't taken the time to try to understand what you believe. What you hold to be true," she said, belatedly correcting herself. "I know belief is kind of a dirty word for you--at least I think it is."

"There is what exists, and what does not. The rest is opinion."

"Right. Anyway. It's almost lights out. Talk to me tomorrow and I promise I'll try to listen better than I have been."

She ducked back down out of sight. The bottom bunk squeaked under her weight. Nen promised himself he'd take her up on her offer, though she seemed so invested in her particular delusion that he didn't think it would do any good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally Optional Critical Thinking Question:
> 
> Who's right, Trinna or Sofie? Or are they both wrong? How would you resolve the issue?

**Author's Note:**

> Comments build community and let me know there are actual people out there reading this stuff.


End file.
